A Rogue of Her Own (Windham Brides #4)(23)
“Review the figures, your lordship. I’m prepared to negotiate within limits, but you will please assure me that Charlotte’s funds will be managed by you or one of your brothers, not by some paunchy solicitor whose attachment is to Charlotte’s coin rather than her welfare.”
Westhaven popped a tea cake into his mouth—the whole thing at once. “I will manage the funds personally, or in conjunction with my sister, the Countess of Hazelton. Her ladyship’s skill with investments goes beyond genius. She will like you, though her version of liking can leave a fellow feeling as if he’s been mauled by a lioness. One makes allowances. She’s married to Hazelton, after all.”
Sherbourne resigned himself to further study of the Windham family tree. No other lord of his acquaintance would liken his sister’s approval to an attack by a wild creature, and yet, Westhaven conveyed genuine affection for the lady.
“I’ll await your response to my proposal,” Sherbourne said, rising. “My thanks for the hospitality. I have one question for you.”
“Ask.” Westhaven wrapped two tea cakes in a table napkin and slipped them into his pocket, then got to his feet.
“Do you hoard food?”
“Of course not. Those are for the hunt breakfast.”
Westhaven loved his son, which reassured Sherbourne as signed settlement agreements would not have.
“Who is Charlotte’s best friend?”
Westhaven paused with his hand on the door latch. “Her best friend now? She was thick as thieves with the Porter girl, but that was years ago. The poor thing left town amid some talk, and I gather Charlotte has kept mostly to the company of her sisters since then. Why do you ask?”
“I’d thought to make the acquaintance of Charlotte’s friends.” To learn what he could from them about a woman he was likely to spend the rest of his life with.
“Ah, now, there I can offer you a bit of marital advice,” Westhaven said, with more enthusiasm than the topic warranted. “You be Charlotte’s friend and allow her to be yours. The other part is lovely of course—connubial bliss is more than a cliché—but be Charlotte’s friend.”
The aristocracy was prone to eccentricity—foxes under the sofa, for example. “I’ll be her husband, once you approve those settlements. Good day, my lord.”
Sherbourne left the earl’s townhouse with much to ponder. Westhaven was a lordly prig, a ferociously devoted father, a loyal brother and cousin, and a conscientious minder of the family fortunes.
Also besotted with his countess, if gossip was to be believed.
Sherbourne was not besotted with Charlotte Windham, but one admission she’d made gave him peace where their union was concerned: If I were to marry anybody, it would be you.
If Charlotte was honest—and Sherbourne believed she was—then her objection was not to him personally, but to marriage in general. He wasn’t overly fond of the institution himself, which boded well for their expectations of each other, if not for their connubial bliss.
*
“The only possible risk is that he might from time to time be somewhat cash poor,” Maggie, Countess of Hazelton, said. “The same ailment afflicts half the titled families in the realm.”
“Sherbourne is poor?” Charlotte couldn’t keep the dismay from her tone.
“Far from it,” Maggie replied, taking off a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. “We would never allow you to entertain his suit if he were without means. Sherbourne’s worth is impressive. He owns majority shares in a bank, shipping ventures, and numerous mercantile establishments. He owns an entire school in the Midlands and built a hotel last year in the Lakes that was booked to capacity all summer.”
“May I see the figures?”
Westhaven had given Charlotte a summary version of the negotiations: Sherbourne had met or exceeded every item on the Westhaven’s list—unasked.
His lordship hadn’t seen fit to explain to Charlotte what the list of demands had entailed. If Sherbourne had been negotiating settlements on behalf of a cousin, he would have ensured that she grasped every detail, down to the penny.
“Charlotte, I understand that you’re nervous,” Maggie said, pouring herself a third cup of tea. “But you needn’t fret about the settlements. Sherbourne assured Westhaven that every aspect of his proposal was within his means.”
“You have doubts.” Charlotte certainly had doubts, an entire queasy tummy full. She’d sent Tansy to the post with next month’s payments for the various Mrs. Wesleys, but Tansy wasn’t coming to Wales. Charlotte would need to establish alternate arrangements almost as soon as she arrived at Sherbourne Hall.
“I have reservations,” Maggie said, “but then, I’ve become averse to risk since the boys came along.”
The boys were at present with their papa in the park, flying kites, sailing boats on the Serpentine, and otherwise enjoying a pretty autumn day. Would Sherbourne take time for outings with his children?
And good gracious, Charlotte blushed to think of how those children would be conceived. Sharing passionate kisses was all well and good—also safe. Never had a child resulted from intemperate kisses alone. This marriage would involve far more than kisses, though, Sherbourne had made that clear.
“I need pin money, Maggie. Lots and lots of pin money.”